


The Road and The Damned

by Black_sunday



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dark, Drama, F/M, Fantasy, Free Marches, Ostwick, Other, Romance, Triangle, fight, idk man, tower
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:07:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25420624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Black_sunday/pseuds/Black_sunday
Summary: The defeat of Corypheus meant to be a new chapter in the world, but as Inquisitor Breana closed lingering rifts and tipped a toe into political power her past comes back with a warning. Thom, confident in his new direction in the world with a beautiful wife, a mission of faith and chance, faces the uncertain world that plagued the woman he swore to protect. They faced his past life but she never spoke of hers and when political uncertainty threatens the Trevelyn clan they have no option but to face Ostwick and Breana's estranged family.(I'm horrible at summaries lmao)
Relationships: Blackwall | Thom Rainier/Female Inquisitor, Blackwall/Female Inquisitor, Female Inquisitor/Cullen Rutherford
Kudos: 1





	1. Healing and Warning

_-Cause' there's just no one in this world like you, my darling dear-  
-Can I go living on this life without you?-_

A night sky dark and cloudy with the edge of a bitter winter to the breeze where ice started to drift down from the clouds and landed in Thom’s warm hands. His breath misted in the air, his cheeks warm from a drink, his back sore from the travel but he was glad to be home even if he couldn’t shake the bad feeling in his stomach. He couldn’t stay distracted, he had things to do, he was back at Skyhold a week earlier than expected that he wanted to surprise Bree when she came back herself. Always complaining about the state of her desk and how she never had time to organise he thought he could give it a crack, he heard how Josephine kept her documents in order and subtly watched how Cullen kept his together or tried to, so he was ready to try. The walk up to her room was easy enough, it was late and everyone was either drinking in the tavern or in their beds tucked under furs to shake off the cold and he would light the fire and settle into her desk chair with wine or whatever bottle she left behind and try and get things sorted. The room was always unnerving without her, dark and motionless but always with a window open. She was too confident no one would climb through, but it seemed untouched. The blankets stiffly tucked under the mattress, her pillows organised the way she preferred them, the wood stacked neatly beside the hearth waiting for someone to warm up the otherwise freezing room and illuminate the shadows back into shrinking corners. She loved this room, he never understood why but he knew how important space was to her and this room had space. The fire sparked to life and Thom put his hands on his hips as he finally looked over to that corner, the corner he never really looked at before because he rarely had to. He could imagine her now sitting there, on the edge of the desk with her long, golden waves knotted behind her head as she read a letter or a book, swinging her foot as she did so when she was focused, but all that was left of her was paper, parchment, books, scrolls, a stone tablet… It was a mess and he had to swallow at the realisation that this was a bigger job than he expected. Letters had piled up, the letters Josephine deemed important for the Inquisitor's eyes, an array of colourful wax seals and scribbled names. Reports rarely settled on her desk for longer than a day but there seemed to have been stacked before a breeze had toppled the tower and scattered them to the floor. “There isn’t even a bottle here.”

Reaching the top of the mess he gathered the letters, still folded but the seals were broken. Bree knew all letters would be read before she would get them that she made it clear she didn’t care if the seals were broken or not but it still felt strange that they were opened, how long ago did she leave? Their last letter was three days ago and she had just reached the Emerald Graves. Curious he shifted through the pile to see if his letters were there but as he did the pile slipped from his arms, triggering the avalanche that slid from the desk. A flutter of paper and misery, Thom sighed as he crouched down and started to gather the paper. A surprise, he hoped, she would be surprised when she came back to find he had thrown everything in the fire from anger. As he grumbled, he picked up a letter recognising the seal as Bree’s, or rather her family. When was the last time she had mentioned them? She said she had three brothers which she was the youngest and that her mother and father were still living but then she would generally change the subject, but more importantly she rarely received letters from them. Thom, still crouching, unfolded the letter to the beautiful scripted handwriting which was rushed but still legible and read. Odd. It was the only way he could describe the letter, it was from one of her brothers who warned her that their father had become Tyrn and their mother demanded her return to Ostwick in celebration but was it normal to warn of invitation? No, he remembered the game of the Noble society and a warning could possibly be a warning in of itself.

The doors came crashing open causing a startle and another slip of papers but the boots marching in, the shouting voices, people carrying something. He watched as a beaten and bruised Doran shouted orders at the other mages, the guards running in and out, Varric panting as his little legs ran as fast as he could and Cassandra being dragged away from the bed as a medic took her place. It happened so fast, Bree was placed onto the bed and her clothes torn as blood stained her white cotton sheets, her sparkling blue eyes staring lifelessly at the ceiling, her breathing shaky and fast-paced as she tried to raise her arm but was held down by a man who was trying to make her drink something. Thom moved to see but didn’t want to see. A rib was sticking out of her flawless skin and the bruising around her bare chest was mottled blue and black, her leg was twisted and her face bloodied and half swollen. He could feel Dorian’s hand on his chest to get him to move back but he was numb, how could he be numb when she lay there struggling to breathe, to move, the pain was impossible to imagine. “Rainier! Please! Give them space!” The plea was an echo as he was pushed further back. Dorian was shaking as he wiped his forehead. They were bloody and beaten, too much blood.

Bree could see him out the corner of her eye, what was left of her sight, she was on the brink of an ocean void that whispered her name like the Maker calling her to his side like Andreste was holding her hand to guide her. She was lucky to survive, for now. She wanted to reach out to him, oh his face, it was like when he was in that cell when he realised he would lose her forever but there was no determined spark to do what was right. Hopelessness, she saw it in everyone's face as she struggled to breathe. Cough and the blood dribbled from her lips but she didn’t feel the splatter on her chin, her mouth gasped as she remembered how she came here, they joked about it. A cruel joke, her words played in her mind, if Corypheus couldn’t get her it was probably a nug. Not a nug, a giant this time. She was overconfident, she had done it a hundred times, she accidentally stumbled upon it and treated it like it was a rabbit. Her blades dug into its flesh easily but it was too late because when it’s hand clasped around her she saw the red lyrium growing out of its face and she knew she was in trouble. The rest was a blur, she was in and out of consciousness the entire trip back to Skyhold, she wasn’t entirely sure how she got back. Her life now flittered across her eyelids as she closed them, a warmth spreading through her chest, the images of playing with her brothers when she was a child, the room she slept in, her mothers face, her father's voice, the Conclave, the templars, everything before it was nothing. They worked on her all night until she was deemed stable and one by one they left except for the surgeon who was dabbing Bree’s wounds with a warm wet wash, her bowl warming by the fire. Thom listened to the story, the panic still in Dorian’s voice as he whispered and they were silent. Varric opened his flask and took a drink, sitting on the floor using the desk to lean back on before offering it to the other three. Cassandra was motionless as she watched her fallen friend finally settle into a pattern of breathing, wondering where it went wrong while Dorian accepted the offer to drink and downed the rest of the flask. Thom, he wasn’t doing good, he was as still as Cassandra but his mind was racing a million miles a minute and his heart hammering in his chest. When the sun rose the surgeon retired whispering that they all needed rest and that someone would be there to continue to monitor her, Varric managed to convince Cassandra to get some rest and Dorian followed them out with a pat of Thom’s back as he passed, it was one of those pats where the fingers would squeeze into the shoulder to try and reassure but Thom barely felt it. When they left he finally moved, slowly as if he would startle her awake, and came closer to the bed with his stomach in knots as he looked over her face, a blanket tucked up to her chin but he could still see the drops of blood. Carefully he sat on the edge of the mattress and moved a lock of blood crusted hair out of her face as he took in the damage, but, she was breathing and she wasn’t shivering in pain.

Days passed by and the Inquisition felt like it was frozen in place while Bree was healing. Josephine, Cullen and Leiliana tried their best to continue operations but there was a weary lull within Skyhold. They all took turns to check on her, to try and convince Rainier out of the room and get some rest or get a drink or eat properly but he hovered over her like a distressed spirit. Cole had appeared once, whispered that her dreams were real and realness is what she craves but nothing was ready which offered little hope of understanding, but he was watching from his realm. Thom would always keep the windows open, the fire lit, would carefully pour water in her mouth and changed her clothes and would stand back when her bandages would be cleaned and her wounds checked. On the eighth day, Cullen had came in, lingering at the top of the stairway, the first time he had seen her. Thom was sitting on the edge of the bed patting down Bree’s blonde hair, brushed and braided by Josephine that morning, still, Cullen lingered. It was awkward, every moment he saw _him_ with _her_ it still stung in his chest but time dulled it. Thom knew very well of Cullen’s feelings towards the Inquisitor, he had heard that before he joined as Blackwall the two were close and Thom was sure that if he never joined the two would probably be sharing… Cullen backed off though, he didn’t have it in him to fight when it was obvious the woman fell for the older man the moment she laid eyes on him. It never came to a point of blowing up, Blackwall- Rainier never confronted or warned him but rather acknowledged his presence and kept an eye on. It was a complicated friendship, especially when Bree would still turn to Cullen for advice. It felt like walking into another reality. Thom noticed, turned his head towards Cullen and seemed relieved, an unexpected reaction.

“How is she?” Cullen asked as he moved further into the room watching Thom stand and add another log to the fire. “I wanted to make sure there was space, trying to convince Jose to do the same.”

“She is well, she flickered her eyes open yesterday but it was only for a minute.” He explained with a tired voice. “She is healing, the bruises and swelling are going down, she will have a scar but she will be excited about that.” A bitter laugh.

“I read the report but didn’t expect it to be this serious. How are you doing? I haven’t seen you downstairs in a while.” Cullen asked quietly approaching the bed, looking over her sleeping face. It was true, her shape face was starting to come back from the swelling, her high cheekbones and her angular but soft jawline defined but mottled with yellow bruising and her sloped nose was healing back in place without a sign of the previous break. Thom let out a quiet sigh before laughing again, his head shaking in disbelief.

“I am well. The shock has past but it is waiting for her to heal, bloody Maker. She really pushed it, didn’t she? Always chasing after death and sticking her finger up at it, I was shitting myself thinking we’d lose her.” He chewed on his bottom lip as he stare into the flames, wondering how Cullen was handling this event himself. He won the Inquisitor, but she still turned to him when in need. Thom shook his head once more pushing those little thoughts of doubt out because there were more important things to think about. “I am more worried about what’ll happen when she wakes.”

“How so?” Cullen asked, hands behind his back and pulling his eyes away from her sleeping face and watching as Thom reached into his pocket and pulled out a letter, offering to read. Curious he stood by the fire with Thom as he unfolded the letter, feeling the frown deepen in his face. “This is from Brennen, he rarely writes.”

“You know her brothers?”

“Not intimately, but Breana had mentioned them a couple of times. Brennen is the oldest and tries to avoid things that aren’t directed to him.” Cullen explained, ignoring the strange glance from Thom as he fiddled with his beard to listen. “Josephine did mention the shift of power, but we haven’t heard much otherwise. When did she get this?”

“I don’t know. Should I be worried?”

“I haven’t a clue. Breana… Well, she hasn’t talked about her childhood or her family, there must be a reason right? She actively avoids the conversation, changes the topic, it is like it isn’t a part of her. But, you haven’t either.” Cullen said quietly. Another strange look directed towards him before the room fell in utter silence


	2. Bitter End of Day

_-A breath inhaled from an air so sick-  
_ _-I cursed the day I had learned of the web you had spun-_

The darkness was heavy and suffocating, her lungs expanded causing the ribs to send a sharp pain into her brain that forced her to snap open her eyes in a sudden alert. It was crushing darkness where there was no breeze, no shapes or shadows, the blood rushing in her ears and her head throbbing made it hard to hear but she knew, she knew. The pain of a nightmare still sharp on her skin, her throat was dry from dehydration and a hunger pain growled from the pits of her stomach that brought a painful memory into her eyes. She clawed at the bed and kicked off the blankets ignoring all forms of pain because her dream was real, it felt too real and if it felt real she needed to go and find an escape. Her feet touched the stone-cold floor and she tried to stand but her body was too weak to support her weight that she had to hang onto the bed to support herself as she shuffled around the room. It was hard but her heart was in a panic as she took a wobbly step forward before falling to the ground, her knees hitting the stone with a cracking thud and the palms of her hands grazed. A light flickered, a candle coming to life illuminating the room and scaring away the darkness. Thom saw her on her hands and knees wild-eyed in fear recoiling from him and covering her face with a scratched up hand, it pained him to see her like this but more, it enraged him that someone had come in to put the fire out and close the windows to keep the cold out.

“Breana, love, what are you doing?” He asked quietly as he approached her carefully, watching as she started to come back to her senses as she looked around the room before looking at her palms. Glittery blue eyes were moist with the threat of tears as she searched his face. “It is ok, you are home, be careful you still have stitches.”  
“Stitches? The window… Doors…” Her soft voice far away as she looked towards the door of the balcony. “I’m sorry. Oh, oh no, I am sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you I just wanted to open a window but I couldn’t walk, everything feels like jelly and my head hurts. I didn’t mean to wake you though, I thought I was quiet I just-“  
“Love…” Thom whispered as he sat on the floor and set the candle down, reaching over and taking the shaking woman into his arms to hold her as she started to cry, weak fingers clutching at his shirt leaving a faint bloodstain on his shoulder, her tears soaking through the material. “I am here, when you are calm we will move you back to bed and I will open the windows, alright? You’re gonna hurt yourself more if you move around.” He gently whispered as he pat her hair smooth. After she was calm he helped her to her feet but kept a steady arm around her before sitting her on the bed's edge. There was a small dribble of blood running down her leg from her knee where the fall had cut open her flesh but there were no sign of her stitches under her ribs had been torn, it took all his energy to not tend to her wounds but he knew that if he didn’t complete her mission she wouldn’t be able to relax. Breana watched him with silent eyes, he had kissed the top of her head and opened the balcony doors to let in the air so flitters of snow scattered across the floor and twirled within the light. Her body ached as she shivered from panic, the panic easing into feeling cold, but it stopped her heart from threatening to explode. It was like breathing for the first time, that deep inhale with her eyes closed and smelling the wetness, smelling the fires and the horses and the food and the ale… Then the pain washed over her and she dropped herself back into the mattress with her hands on her sides as she groaned. He wasted no time in gathering the potions the healers had left behind for him and forced her to drink, sitting on the edge of the bed until she fell back into a peaceful sleep.  
That was the reoccurring pattern for the next three days. She would wake up in a panic, he would soothe her, she would go back to sleep until finally, she was able to stay conscious for hours. It took time but soon things started to ease, she was on bed rest orders and when she wasn’t in pain she would sit up in bed going through paperwork while he would help her to his best ability. People came and went, glad to see her well, but she was starting to get impatient and would pace her room, try going down the stairs before falling or hurting herself which meant she would be carried back in bed and lectured by Josephine, Cullen or whatever healer would find her on the floor. Thom flittered in and out of the room, she was using him as her body and eyes while she sat in her room in creeping depression. He would stand in greeting for whatever nobles, listen to an audience and speak on her behalf, he would assist Josephine and Cullen and he was finally able to grasp on why she was exhausted half the time. He couldn’t imagine the burden when Corypheus was a threat. Even though they kept busy, he kept busy, he noticed letters were piling up from Ostwick and there was an uneasy feeling in his stomach. One evening he lay in bed with her, she was sitting propped up by pillows as she flipped through a book and he was laying on his back when he asked. “Why don’t you speak about your family?”

  
“Why don’t you?” Her quick mouth shot it down and he didn’t push it, but he rolled to his side propping himself up with his elbow and reached for a lock of her golden spun hair. Breana closed the book softly, glancing towards him with watery eyes framed with exhaustion and a sense of deep sadness and let out a soft sigh. He was being so patient with her, she thought as she took his hand and kissed his scarred knuckles, doing her errands and running around for her, staying by her side. Rainier was keeping her sane. “I do not talk about them because I am not close to them.” She answered quietly between her soft kisses that moved to his calloused palm. It ended the conversation and after a moment she had gone back to her book, reading while she listened to him sleep beside her, his arm over her lap. Her mind was in a lull with the lack of activity, she had spent time processing her injuries, processing her situation, thinking and thinking like she always had a pattern of doing but the difference from when she was younger to now was that she had friends, she had choices, nothing seemed scary even if she was confined to a room. It was her room though, no, it was their room where she had a husband that would work with his hands by the fire, pour her wine even if he prefered ale, would help her dress but pretend she did it herself when she cried in frustration, he listened and existed with her that she realised how little he knew of her. Sure, he had a past, her faith guided her in a way that was appropriate to nurture his spark of life and keep him in hers but now she felt abandoned by the Maker once more.

  
The Chant was her only friend for so many years, she firmly believed in miracles and that he was born to do something greater than be a noblewoman, things happened that she couldn’t explain that when he survived the conclave she felt the Maker’s warm embrace, the warm reassurance and guidance of Him and His Wife. She was the Herald, a Shepherd, a sword of judgement, a listener, a guider, her life was His will and everyone around her was there for a reason. Though she was modest about her actions she knew that without her, her friends would still be suffering, they needed a gentle push in the right direction. Blackwall, Rainier, was no different. They came together because Breana knew the Maker needed them together. Closing the book again she looked to his face, aged from wilderness, battle, guilt, burdens, a warriors edge and wilderness about him, but he was a soft man, he had convictions and meaning, purpose and a mind with a mission. He was just lost. Breana had spoken truthfully that faithful day when her guards dragged him in with handcuffs and he was bitter and angry at her, but the Maker needed him to be on His mission. Andreste spoke forgiveness, Breana was only Her mouth, but there was obvious doubt of her motives. This tired man who had done unforgivable things would repent, rebirth, he was already making good on his plan to seek others to do the same. Breana said it once, about the Makers mission, but she joked it off because Rainier needed to believe in himself first. Though her faith was strong it did waver when painful memories would grip her when she sat in a room for weeks with nothing to do but read or pace her floor, she would always feel abandoned and lost. That night she prayed the pain would be over.  
Josephine didn’t want to destroy the scene she walked into, her candle flickering light over the two sleeping bodies, Thom with his arm tangled around his slender wife always drowning in her hair, but it was important. “Breana, psst.” She whispered between her teeth but all it did was make the woman stir before going back to sleep. “Breana, wake up please.” She tried again.  
Breana’s eyes flickered open slowly, sitting up letting the blankets slide down her shoulders as she supported herself up with her arms. She could see Josephine's outline, the blurring light as she slowly woke. “What’s going on?”  
“Brennen is here.” The words barely left Josephine’s lips when Breana shot out of bed and rushed to her balcony to look over the railing to see that a small band of guards with her families banner fluttering in the breeze. Her heart had felt like it was about to spill from her throat, hammering in her neck as she turned back into her room. “He demands your presence, I tried to dissuade him by saying you are injured but he threatened to come up himself. I don’t know what to say, it’s unannounced and he seems agitated but he is here alone.”  
“Thank you, Josie, I… Shit,” Breana swore as she threw on the clothes she could find in a rush, wincing at having to lift her arms above her head. It was then that Thom stirred from his sleep watching the women go about the room, Josephine helping to tie a corset, Breana slipping a dress over her shoulders, Josephine handing her a hairbrush, Breana slipping her feet into some silk slippers before they rushed out in a flurry of silks and panic. Breana relied on Josephine to rush down the stairs and before they opened the door into the main hall there was one last pat-down, one last smoothing down folds. Both breathed in, fixing posture. Josephine knew the importance of Breana’s image to her family so stayed a step behind her as she walked through the hall, met with Cullen and Lilianna as she approached her older brother.   
The Trevelyan's shared strikingly similar features, but Brennen, the eldest, has soft orange hair that was sprinkled with white-grey hair at the temples. He had a magnificent beard that was plaited and secured with a jewelled bead. The siblings shared the same bright blue eyes, strong angular cheekbones and jawlines but there was a strong masculine edge to the brothers face. Breana met her brother at his eye level, she was a tall woman so seeing a man able to tower over her was slightly unnerving. Brennen was a warrior, his build thick and muscular that his tunic looked strained over his tense build. His hand was rested at his hip where his dark blade waited to be unleashed in battle, next to him Breana looked like a thin servant elf. It was tense, the siblings silent, the hall silent, everything silent as the two looked each other up and down before Breana threw her arms around him and the two melted in fits of laughter.  
“Didya get taller, girl? And the feel of ya, you’ve seen battle!” Brennen’s voice boomed as he smacked his younger sister on the back sending a wave of ache up her spine, but she swallowed any reaction. “I scared the shit out of everyone here but it was revenge, you understand? Where is he?”  
“Who?”  
“Who?! The man you married. Unless that was another rumour, nope, look at that ring on your finger. Andreste’s ass, mother damn near died on the spot because she had about four marriages lined up for you and father hasn’t stopped raging since hearing about it. They thought you were going to come back.” Brennen explained searching over her shoulder before pushing her by and walking up to a young man, a nobles son from Orlais and slapped him on the back and hugging him. “A Lil scrawny.”  
“Brennen…” Breana sighed, turning to her advisors and dismissed them but they wouldn’t leave, absorbing the strange interaction. If summoned, Thom had stumbled into the main hall adjusting his belts, in his armour with his sword at his hip, fingers now running through his beard. Seeing her he rushed to her side ready for whatever action she needed. Breana touched his arm, a sign for him to calm down, and they both sighed out a shaking sigh. “Thom,” She started getting her brothers attention “Thom Rainier, this is my eldest brother, Brennen Adair Trevelyan.”  
Again, that silence. Thom stood straight as his match of strength and stature approached him, the man standing so close he could smell the stale ale on the pale man's breath. “Standing eye to eye with a murderer, it makes you feel things,” Brennen said under his breath before he shook off the intimidation and grabbed Thom by the hand with a strong grip and shook his hand. “I have heard the stories, past and present. I know my sister is smart, you have no worries from me.”  
“Forgive me, m’lord, but I can’t say the same.” Thom bowed his head, Brennen raised a scruffy eyebrow towards his sister before a slight laugh came out of his lips.  
“Aye, she’d keep her family in her shadows. What is the story anyway? How romantic was it? My sister always had a thing for romance, read so much of the crap. Wait let me guess…” Brennen took a step back and looked the pair up and down, quite opposites of each other. Outwardly, Breana would have matched some piss-boy noble to drink fine wine and dance at balls and entertain at parties, Thom looked like he tumbled out of a bush after a drunken night suited to live in a tent and living off the land. Breana though inwardly would be the same if she hadn’t had political etiquette drummed into her since birth. Finally, with a smile, Brennen opened his mouth. “He was a guard, hmm? A moonless night, cold, snowing maybe, gotta keep close at night and try to forget the passing glances and raw-“  
“This isn’t an appropriate conversation.” Breana hissed through her teeth, a warning, but her brother was one to test the boundaries. He was ready to speak again but she leapt onto him and grappled him, holding him in a headlock forgetting where she was. The shock that held Skyhold to see the Goddess-like Inquisitor rumble with her brother… Cullen glanced to Thom to see that they were sharing the same confused frown.  
“Is this the same person?” Cullen whispered at Thoms side, leaning in to not be overheard. “What on earth is happening?”  
“A fever dream,” Thom whispered back, eyes unable to be pulled away from the playful scene before him, the older brother managing to push the woman away with ease but as soon as that light mood came it went, he adjusted his clothes and held his sister by the shoulder, a frown on his face.  
“I didn’t come here to catch up, sadly. Is there somewhere private we can talk?”  
“Of course.”

  
*

  
Breana closed the door behind her after she ushered her brother into the war room, sure Josephine would have an ear on the wood to try and listen to their conversation. She wanted Thom to be in here but the grim face Brennen wore was enough to know this would be a complex problem. Brennen walked around the war table, a finger on the edge as he looked over the small figurines, the pieces of paper that hadn’t been packed away, the dagger still stabbed in the centre. He looked tired, more than the travel, his eyes directed towards her as grey as the edge of a blade. “Do you remember Damon Boyd?” He asked. The name was enough to send a shiver of fear down her spine as she remembered his face, his cold glances, his bitter words. “After you disappeared he did too, I was worried for a while thinking he was out searching for you but I am thankful to see he did not. But, with that said, he has returned from whatever travels he was on and ever since mothers obsession with him has grown.”  
“She was always fond of that snake. What about father? He never liked the man.”  
“Bree, I haven’t seen Father since Damon returned.”  
It took some effort to not stumble back from those words, it was a weighty punch to the gut to hear but she needed to stay firm. Her face soon matched her brothers as she thought it over. It was odd to hear, her father was socially and physically active, he was one of those men whose egos charged his life entirely that he was constantly on the move to climb social ladders. She managed to calm herself before she let out a groan. “What a mess… And why come to me? We all know I will never go back.”  
“I know, no death, wedding or birth will lure you back and I don’t blame you. It has taken a lot for me to come to you for help, when do I ever reach out for help Bree? I warned you not to come but this is beyond anything I can control. I need help, but not from Bree my sister.”  
“Then who?”  
“Breana the Inquisitor. The Dragonslayer, the Herald of Andreste, the Hand of the Maker.” He finished, voice trailing in a whisper, a plea of desperation. He could see her mind ticking even though her face was still as a statue, her eyes scanning around the room while her arms crossed over her chest. How she had grown since the last time he had seen her, it wasn’t long ago but it felt it. When Breana left she was a skittish mouse full of fear and submission but now, standing with her chin high as she mulled over his words, she was standing on top of the world convicted in her faith, courage, her smarts she was never able to express. After a few moments of silence, she bowed her head and let out another sigh.  
“As Inquisitor? I can’t deny you the help, you slimy bastard. You need to tell me everything. The rumours, what the family knows, I need to know the story before I can see where I need to begin.”  
“Understandable, one thing is for sure, we didn’t know you were married. Any part of your inner social life and workings we do not know. We hear of your achievements but nothing else. Mother wrote you off entirely and never speaks of you, that should bring a smile to your face.”  
“Bringing Thom would be fun, indeed.”  
“Please no. It is too sensitive.” Brennen said within all seriousness. “We know of his actions, mother knew the family he… Well…”  
“There goes that smile.” Breana huffed. “Very well, I will help you. But I will withdraw the moment I feel in any way threatened.”  
“I thought you were a warrior.” Brennen teased softly but his joke fell flat, her eyes staring daggers into his face. “I mean, I understand. I know this isn’t the plan but I do need to bring you back with me. I intended to bring you back and I won't leave unless I know you will come with me.”  
“That does ruin my plans.” She whispered looking over the map, working over how long it would take to travel. “Leaves me no time to plan, but against my better judgement, we will leave in the morning. I will bring a small guard with me, at least make it not seem like a war effort before you even demand civility and upholding the family image. I won't bring Thom, another thing that goes against my guts feelings but I will be bringing someone who will be able to watch my back when I cannot. Does this please you?”  
“I have to admit, I was expecting more of a fight.”  
“I don’t have the energy for another fight.” She mumbled. “But know this, Brennen, I love you. I love you and Osin and Ellis but nothing will make me stay. When I fix your problem, that is it. Nothing will make me come back.” The words hung heavy in the air, her eldest brother visibly in pain as he thought about losing his sister again. A bad price to pay but he had to agree to her terms even if it would be the biggest regret he would have in life.


End file.
